


The Festival

by Clueingforlooks221B



Series: WOY-tober Challenge 2016 [2]
Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Carnival Games, Death Glare - Freeform, Fluff and Humor, M/M, fall festival, pony rides, pumpkin smashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8178086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clueingforlooks221B/pseuds/Clueingforlooks221B
Summary: Based on the WOY-tober challenge by @dontgetusedtoit on tumblr.Peepers face prickles and heats at the sight of his men on top of them, foolishly smiling as they are walked in circles by attendants. He face palms and looks away, desperately trying to wipe what he just saw out of his mind. But it is engraved on the back of his eye lid. His chest sinks as his veins are filled with lava. He can’t watch. The commander, the only one who seems to have dignity, tries to talk Hater out of it. But like usual his efforts fall futile, and he grumbles besides Hater in the line full of children. Once they reach the front of the line the elderly man says to Hater, “I’m sorry but you can’t get on.” Luck just isn't on Peepers side today.   “What?! Why not?” How dare this fool tell him what he, Lord Hater, could and could not do. Hater is getting on that pony. “The pony would collapse, none of them would be able to carry you.”   “WHAT?! ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?!”  For the umpteenth time Peepers face palms again, reassessing his life choices.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this, I hope you guys like it.

On the brink of sleep, Tony the watchdog wrestles with his lids to remain open. His commander’s nasally voice drones through the mute boiling room, broken by a poorly stiffen yawn or two occasionally. He looks to his leader on the right of him who is, of course, zoned out. He is looking at Commander Peepers, sure, but his pupils stray and appear waxy. 

A pop of apricot skips past in his peripheral vision, and desperate to distract his mind from Peepers tangents of a dwindling plan, his eye whips over to it. Outside the window boisterous colors attack his senses, so bright and obtuse that he has to blink to not be overwhelmed. 

“Whoa it looks like they're having some sort of party out there!” He jumps out of his chair, his mad curiosity plaguing his voice of reason, and rushes to get a closer look. His call alerts the watchdogs sitting around the table, calling them out of their vast daydreams to come and take a gander. Eyes smothered up against the dirty glass, their pupils are glued to the scene below. 

Peepers groans, not even surprised by his armies antics. Irritation punches his top lid, and he brings his finger up to seize the twitching. 

“No it looks more like a festival!”   “Nah it’s a party!” 

“No it’s a festival look there’s white tents. They don't have those at parties!”   The watchdogs crowd around the long window, nudging and pushing at each other to try and get a better view of the small town. The ones in the back stand on their tip toes, and squint as hard as they can to try to see past their fellow soldiers shoulders. 

“Whoa there’s ponies down there!” One of the watchdogs in the back cries out, and the crowd tightens as the watchdogs fight to be in the front of the window. The poor watchdogs that are in the front are being squished up against the cold panel. They erupt in excited chattering, cries breaking out amongst themselves. 

“There’s bouncy houses!”   “And rides!” 

“Pumpkins!” 

At each call Hater’s lime green eyes sparkle in interest, his legs bouncing and itching to get up to go look. But he is attempting to be a good… boyfriend? Partner? They haven't really settled on a term; they haven't felt the need to. But regardless, Hater is trying to respect his commander more. Key word trying. But little did Hater know Peepers is honored Hater is even attempting for him. Of course he’s noticed what Hater thought he was being vague about. 

A cleverer watchdog notices the apprehension radiating off Hater’s bones, and his lids twist in a smirk. 

“Watchdogs eyes up! This is a time of war there’s no times for parties!” Peepers crimson eyes, however, are dancing in irksomeness.   “Actually it’s a festival.” One of the watchdogs in the middle of the crowd pipes up, immediately regretting it when Peepers glowers at him. 

The clever watchdog is raking his eyes over Hater’s form, and Peepers takes notice of this. “Man,” the watchdog makes an act of sinking in a enormous breath, “the food smells in-credible.”   Peepers, knowing what he is up to, tries to bring some commonsense to the table. “We’re in a ship! You can’t smell the food from here!”

The watchdog ignores him. “There’s pumpkin pie, hotdogs, kettle corn, corn on the cob,” Hater’s mouth is beginning to water, and Peepers knows where this is going to end up. Regardless he still refutes it, “You can’t possibly know that you can barely see the festival!” Hater’s imagination has drowned Peepers voice out, and just by the saliva pooling out of his jaw and glossy look in his eyes Peepers knows he has lost him. 

Peepers wishes he had his ray gun to shoot his solider, but lucky for him it’s on the charger.

“and taquitos.” The watchdog ends, crossing his arms, and all eyes are on Hater.   “TAQUITOS?!” Lord Hater shoots up, and Peepers exhales out all his further attempts. They plummet to the ground, defeated. 

Peepers knows an October festival won’t be serving toquitos, but once Hater gets something in his mind there is no getting him to change it. Peeper made a note of the closest planet that has toquitos so they can stop by there later when Hater will, no doubt, be upset. 

The watchdog is fortunate Hater won't remember who told him the lie. Unlucky for him though, Peepers will. 

“Pull the ship around we’re going!” Lord Hater bellows out, and cheers roar in Peepers eardrums. They throb, sobbing. 

Dropping down into his chair, it swivels as Peepers lets out a long hard exhale. In his head he starts to work out a list of independent work he can accomplish as the ship roughly turns around.

The watchdogs have dispersed out of the room, all figuring to escape before facing Peeper’s wrath. 

The headache is back knocking at Peeper’s temples, demanding to be let in. Peepers knows eventually it will break in through a window, but for now he’s savoring just the sound of it before the full force comes tumbling in. 

The room becomes motionless as the last of the watchdogs exit it. Hater stares at his commander for several unwavering seconds. His head is down, staring intently at the liter of papers scattered in front of him as his thoughts holler and leak anxiety into his brain. 

Carefully Lord Hater moves closer to him, and once Peepers is only a few feet away he inches his feet to move leisurely. Once Peepers looks up Hater stops, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

“Was there something you wanted sir?” Peepers gives into being the first one to speak after a minute of empty silence. 

Hater is shifting his eyes from the ground, to Peepers eye, and then to Peepers chest. He knows Hater feels guilty, but can’t help himself at being a bit snarky. Everyday Dominator is destroying more and more planets, and every minute they wasted is more of a risk of the whole galaxy being wiped out. 

“I was wondering, uh, if maybe you’d come with me? You know as like, us, alone together sort of way…” Hater trails off awkwardly, and all of Peepers frustrations slowly trickle out of him. As its exerted from his tense irked form nothing is left to hold up his hollow bones, so he slouches slightly. 

“Sir-“ 

Hater halts his voice with his words- “I know, I know, stupid Dominator’s out there still but we can’t let her completely ruin our lives.” Peepers tiredly smiles. “Well alright, but just for a little while.”   Hater beams, and instantaneously Peepers knows that he's made the right choice. If Dominator were to kill him tomorrow he wouldn't regret doing this, just seeing Hater happy made him elated. No matter how cliché that sounds it is true, not that Peepers will ever say it aloud. Actions are enough for them. 

———————

The first thing Hater does is check all the convention stands for toquitos. Everyone he asks reveals a confirmation to them that Hater is insane, and with each booth they go to Hater’s temper grows shorter and shorter. Peepers tries to talk him into ordering another item, but gives up after he is almost electrocuted. 

Finally they reach the last booth in the festival. Peepers is hoping that they have toquitos for the sake of the rest of their… outing, to go well.

“I want toquitos.” Hater grinds out through his clenched teeth.

The woman behind the counter blinks. “I’m sorry, what?” 

Peepers lids twitch as his shoulders jump. Of course they don't have toquitos, what fall festival has toquitos? He curses the watchdog who told the lie who doesn't have to deal with the direct consequences. He is going to pay later. 

“I want toquitos.” Hater repeats it louder, kneeling in towards the woman as he slams his hands onto her booth. It rocks and she squawks, her back slamming into one of the counters behind her. With shaking hands she pushes herself off the table, straightening her slouched spine slightly. But her anxiousness and horror weight her down, pacing along her back.

“I-I’m sorry sir,” she readjusts her large tilted glasses. They immediately slip down her nose, and she inches them back up with her pointer finger. “We don’t carry toquitos here, but we do have enchiladas.” 

“AGRH!!” The deep cry is ripped out of Hater’s diaphragm, coiling out as electricity tumbles off his bones. The poor woman's booth is engulfed in green before darkening and collapsing to ashes. 

The woman is sizzling, and between her shivering burnt lips she only manages to whimper. 

“Hey sir,” Peepers says it cautiously, testing the waters before taking the risk of grabbing Hater’s clenched fists. They're burning hot, but it provides warmth to Peepers cold figure. He is starting to regret going out in just his thin spandex uniform. Lucky for him the helmet traps heat, so the weather is bearable.  
 From Peepers light touch on his fist Hater begins to relax slightly, taunt figure hunching over and admitting defeat to not getting toquitos. 

“Why don’t we go to the pumpkin patch instead?” Just as quickly as Hater recoiled, he is up in flames again.   “What? What’s so fun about stupid pumpkins?” 

Peepers, expecting this reaction, cooly states, “Smashing them.” 

Hater’s eyes widen, before curving back down into half-circles. His lips crack into a smirk. 

After all, it would be much more fulfilling and safer than the planet they bullied last.

——————

The children and parents near by are not at all pleased, but it’s not like Hater or Peepers care. 

Peepers nasally laugh and Hater’s deep chortles fill the atmosphere as they smash pumpkins with their feet. His red boots shattering the thick ridges of the pumpkins skin, and the stringy remains that lick down his boots makes him content.

But nothing is more satisfying to Peepers then when Hater blasts them, the orange guts soaring in the air. They award themselves bonus points when the guts slap a bystander. 

When his legs ache and don't bash as hard, he resorts to jumping on them. He giggles, looking to Hater who isn't at all tired. Hater has his skull thrown back, cackling as the pumpkins are buried in electric green waves. 

Peepers takes out his ray gun, feet now pounding from extortion too much.

He blasts a large lumpy pumpkin nearby, and it massively erupts. Its parts rain down, pouring on Hater. To Peepers it happens slowly, and he hisses to himself and stiffens. The seeds bounce of his shoulders, and the gunk rolls down his hood and sticks to his chest. A lot of the slime remains on his hood, hanging down over his face. 

Peepers would have laughed if it wasn't his fault. 

Gulping he backs up, shakily putting his arms out in front of him as Hater starts to comprehend what just happened. Lord Hater growls, fists glowing blinding green as Peepers continues to back up. “No sir I’m sorry I didn't mean-“ Peepers stutters it out, almost tripping over a vine. 

Hater lunges at him, and Peepers flinches and squeaks. Hater tackles him to the ground, and Peepers squeezes his eye shut as he awaits his impending doom. 

He expects to feel fire coursing up his spine and his vision to grow white, but instead feels something sticky being thrown onto his neck. 

Deep laughs are raked up his throat from his diaphragm, and Peepers eyes shoot open. “Ah man you should have seen the look on your face!!” Hater kneels over, still looming over Peepers who is on his back. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his cackling thunders through the pumpkin patch. Bystanders have already moved down the pumpkin patch, pulling their children far away from the overgrown toddlers. 

“It it hah it was priceless!” Hater fights to get the words out in between his amusement, and after another minute he wipes the moisture from his eyes, panting. 

His joy eats away at the fear, and his lids are pulled into a tight U. Ripping the pumpkin guts off his chest, he smears it onto a distracted Hater. Hater looks down in mild shock, before his eyes narrow playfully. “Oh it’s on.”

They start to wrestle, limbs somersaulting as they tumble through the dirt. Pumpkin guts leap in all sorts of directions around them. Victory laughter from both sides occasionally fill the atmosphere, and more pumpkins are demolished in the process. They dig into the cracks of the empty pumpkins for guts, crawling to untouched collapsed ones for more. Throwing them at each other like snowballs, they aim at the others body. 

When both of their lungs are withering for air they stop, hanging onto each other for support. Exhausted giggles bubble out of them as they work hard to catch their breaths, bodies wet and stained orange. The fresh smell of pumpkin stains the inside of their nostril hairs, and wafts in the breeze around them. Both of their hands are starting to burn and scratch, and a quiet after thought of regret whispers in their ears from the pain. But they both shove it away, mutually agreeing that it was worth it. 

They brush themselves off, rushing to find a bathroom to wash the remnants off their bodies. They aid each other in the spots that they can’t reach, and earn a lot of colorful stares along the way. 

——————

Of course pony rides is right next to the restrooms. Peepers face prickles and heats at the sight of his men on top of them, foolishly smiling as they are walked in circles by attendants. He face palms and looks away, desperately trying to wipe what he just saw out of his mind. But it is engraved on the back of his eye lid. His chest sinks as his veins are filled with lava. 

He can’t watch. 

The commander, the only one who seems to have dignity, tries to talk Hater out of it. But like usual his efforts fall futile, and he grumbles besides Hater in the line full of children. 

Once they reach the front of the line the elderly man says to Hater, “I’m sorry but you can’t get on.” 

Luck just isn't on Peepers side today.   “What?! Why not?” How dare this fool tell him what he, Lord Hater, could and could not do. Hater is getting on that pony. 

“The pony would collapse, none of them would be able to carry you.”   “WHAT?! ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?!”  

For the umpteenth time Peepers face palms again, reassessing his life choices. 

“But if your son wants to get on,” The man kneels, hands on his thighs as he stares with wide exaggerated eyes at Peepers. 

Oh my grop. 

Hater screeches out, laughing hard and earning concerned looks from the people around him. Peepers blood shifts, all plummeting in his fists as he grows hot again for an entirely different reason. 

“HAHAHAH OH MY GROP PEEPERS HE THINKS YOU’RE MY YOU’RE MY-“ Hater can’t get it out in between his wheezing, and Peepers is thankful for that. 

“I am not a kid!” He crosses his arms, narrowing his eye at the elder. He straightens up as much as his crooked spine allows him. “Oh I see, my apologies.” He doesn't look at all apologetic as he says this, and sends a critical eye in Hater’s direction. Peepers can feel the irritation bouncing off him into the air waves. The feeling makes him feel better. Good, be pissed. See how it feels to be angry.

After several minutes Hater regains composure over himself, not minding about not being able to go onto the miniature horse anymore. The elder didn't realize how lucky he is he said that. If he hadn't he would have been a crisp burnt shell of who he is. 

Commander Peepers goes to step out of line, but is quickly tugged back in by Hater’s hand. From the force of it his back slams into Hater’s leg, and he bounces off. Hater’s hand lands on his shoulder, steadying him. 

“He’ll be getting on.” Hater states, and it leaves no room for arguments. The elder nods, and Peepers stutters as his blood drops from frigid ice to boiling water. 

“No I will not! Sir-“ Hater turns him around so that he can see his face. 

“Peepers I can’t get on and since I can’t I need you to to tell me how it is.” Hater whines out. Peepers can’t find any logic in the sentence, but then again this is Hater. 

Peepers refuses to falter. There is no way he, Commander Peepers, is getting onto a pony. “No.” Peepers crosses his arms again, planting his feet firmly into the dust. Irritation flashes behind his eyes, and Peepers can see the wheels turning in his brain of another tactic to use to get his way. 

Then the whispers of a smirk echo behind his closed lips. He widens his eyes, giving his commander the puppy eyes. This tactic is a new one Hater has been pulling on Peepers lately, and each time he uses it Peepers hopes that it won’t work anymore. So far that hasn't happened. It’s been far overused now, but Peepers still feels the strong pull at his small heart. 

Darn it. 

Peepers looks away, voice wavering. “Sir no.” 

“Peepers I’ll kiss you if you ride the pony.” Shock numbs his blood momentarily, before he realizes how ridiculous this is becoming.

Why does he want him to get on the darn animal so bad?  
 “Sir no! This is a relationship you can’t bribe me with kissing!” 

“Then I’ll-“   Peepers sticks his hands out in front of him, trying to physically stop both the statement and his mind from wondering about what Hater was going to offer next. “No don’t go any further!” 

Someone in the back of the line hollers, “JUST GET ON THE STUPID PONY ALREADY!!” 

Peepers looks behind Hater’s looming form, and the line has grown twice the size. Angry parents murmur in agreement. 

He sighs, knowing that Hater will just keep fighting him on this. Shoulders drooping, he wails out, “Alright fine! I’ll get on the dumb pony.” 

Here’s something Peepers thought he would never say, much less argue about. 

Hater’s bright smile directed towards him almost makes it worth it. 

————

As if having to step on a stepping stool wasn’t enough, he is now being paraded around by a straight-faced employee who is holding onto the ponies reigns. The children around him, along with another watchdog, awe and smile in amazement. Peepers, on the other hand, deadpans and crosses his arms.

He hates this so much. 

This is just belittling. 

“Oh C Peeps over here!” Lord Hater calls out to him, octaves skipping in joy. Peepers blinks, eye wide as he stares over at him. 

He’s met with Hater’s phone covering his face.

Snap!

At least he had the decency to turn the flash off. 

Hater’s laugh bounces through the white fence enclosed around the ponies, and Peepers grumbles as he crosses his arms again. 

At the large scene they caused in line most of the watchdogs have gathered around. More and more are coming, crowding around the wilting ivory fence. Watchdogs text other watchdogs spreading the gossip, and most don’t believe it. There’s no way Peepers would get on a pony. 

They all conclude that Peepers really will do anything for Lord Hater. 

Phones out, they all started wildly taking photos. Some of their flashes are on, so Peepers has an excuse for looking away. 

In most of the pictures they are getting Peepers is either glaring or shielding away. 

No doubt this will be all over social media before Peepers has the chance to confiscate all their phones. 

The attendant starts to bring him back to the stall, and Peepers is thankful it’s finally over. 

His phone starts to widely vibrate against his thigh and Peepers groans. Does he even want to look? 

He gives in, fishing into his pocket. 

He groans again at the name that fills his screen. Zbornak.

The first text from her is a photo, and the next is a text. He unlocks his phone with his long password h8t3r&p33p3rs43v3r.

The photo is, of course, of him on the pony. He is glaring, and whoever took the photo must have had the sense to not have the flash on since he happened to be looking directly at the camera. 

He clicks on the photo to enlarge it, and cringes at the zoomed in photo that he doesn't even want to think about. Sylvia screenshoted it from Barry’s Eyebook account, and already in the two minutes he had it up it had 22 likes and 5 comments. Sylvia liked it, and tagged someones username that Peepers doesn't know. 

He clicks out of the photo to see what she wrote. “Nice. I’m using this for my christmas cards this year.” 

Peepers doesn't doubt her on that. It’d be less embarrassing for her than the photoshoots Wander does. 

He opts for writing back, “ha ha very funny Zbornak.” 

Locking his phone back and making a mental note to himself to stay off social media for the next week, the attendant parks the miniature horse in the stall. 

A large sensible part of himself tells him to not go back out there, but he doesn't listen to it. 

—————

The braver watchdogs stuck around when he got out, hooting and yelling. Peepers just glowers at them. 

Hater is scrolling through his phone, eyes shinning in mirth as he cackles into his screen. Most likely looking through the photos others are posting, or the millions of ones he took.

At least someone got some joy out of this. 

“Man the only thing that would’ve made that better would be if Captain Tim was on there with you.”

The poor fate of the commander if that had happened. No wait, the poor fate of the pony. 

“Yes, well I’m glad you liked it.” Peepers stiffly says, glancing away from Hater even though his face is still buried in his phone. He tries to not let the hurt bleed out of his punctured bitter tone. 

Something pokes at Hater, warning him something isn’t right. He looks to his commander whose head is down, his shoulders curling into himself. Locking his phone he slips it back into his hidden pocket. 

Guilt burrows itself into Hater’s heart. Inwardly Hater gags, he hates guilt! He doesn’t even understand what he did wrong! So he made Peepers ride a miniature horse, so what? Why did he have to be so confusing sometimes? 

Hater thinks back to their conversation before hand, and awareness dawns onto him. 

He pays close attention to their surroundings, waiting until there’s not a lot of people around to stop.

Grass tickles at his exposed ankles, and around them the autumn sky is beginning to darken. The horizon is radiating orange. In the distance the white tents and amusement rides bask in the last of the suns tangerine rays. 

Peepers now noticing that Hater has stopped, turns around. “Sir?” He walks towards Hater, and each step he takes closer makes Hater’s heart pulse harder. It pounds against his ribs, making his body shake.  
 His commander stops in front of him, his mood shifting from humiliation to concern. “Sir are you-“   Before Hater can chicken out or upset his commander any further, he swoops down, kissing Peepers in mid sentence. Peepers falters at the sudden action, almost falling backwards if it weren't for Hater’s arm that swung around his back. His words morph into a yelp, and before he knows it Hater is backing away. 

“There.” Hater takes another step away, cheeks glowing green and lips tingling. His heart skips frantically, but he doesn't feel sick like he did before. 

“Wha?” Peepers is in a daze, so thrown off by the others action. His pupil has expanded and darkened, and for a moment he doesn't remember a thing. 

But then he does, sadly. 

Hater’s earlier bribe comes crashing back, effectively snapping Peepers out of his daze and brining his irritation back.

“Hater,” Peepers tries to keep his anger at bay, knowing how important this is for Hater to understand. Using his first name feels strange on his tongue, but he really needs to stress getting his full attention. “I don’t want you to… reward me by kissing me. I want you to kiss me because you want to, because the moments right and meaningful…” Peepers trails off, partially wishing he had rehearsed what he was going to say in his head so that it didn't come out so raw and sappy. “I don't want you to promise it to me, giving it to me like a treat like I’m a dog. Does that make sense?” Peepers lids squint uncertainty as he glances up at Lord Hater.

The feeling is back, contaminating his heart and making Hater want to puke out his insides just to get rid of it. Why can’t he do anything right? 

Peepers crosses his arms, holding himself together as he looks down at his feet. Sadness bubbles up in his pupil.

“C Peeps. Grop,” Hater struggles to find the right words. He hates this. “I kissed you because I wanted to! I’m,” He fights to get the next word out, “sorry,” Peepers head snaps up, blood halting. Hater continues, “I didn't think about it that way. I just thought you were upset because I didn't kiss you like I said I would since you got on the pony!”  
 Peepers body starts to warm again, he should've figured. “Sir it’s okay this whole thing is ridiculous anyways.” 

“No whatever it is isn't since you’re still upset. Tell me what I did wrong!” Hater whines. 

Peepers blinks, gaze turning empathetic. “You didn't do anything wrong,” Peepers rests his hand on Hater’s. “I’m just,” he sighs, “embarrassed that’s all. See I told you it was dumb. Now come on, I think on the way up here I saw a darts game.” Peepers starts to walk away towards the directions of the tents.

“What? Why?” Hater grabs onto his arm, tugging him back and keeping his hold there to keep him in place. “All the other watchdogs did it. I would have if I could.” 

“Well it was embarrassing for me,” Peepers weakly protests, looking away again towards the horizon and casting himself in orange shadows. “And they took so many pictures.” He whimpers, burying his fiery eye into his hand.”You took photos.” He glares at Hater.

“What, that’s it? But they were adora-“ Hater catches himself, face erupting in green. “NO WAIT THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT TO SAY!!” He yells before groaning, burying his face into his hands. 

Peepers can’t believe what he just almost heard, coming out of Lord Hater’s mouth no less. His lids gape open. 

Suddenly Peepers feels better about the whole thing. In fact he has a whole new perspective on what just occurred. 

He bets he could use puppy eyes right back at Hater. 

He smirks, feigning innocence, “They are what, sir?” 

“Shut up Peepers.” Hater reaches for Peepers hand, holding it tightly to pull him towards the tents. “Come on I’m starving, let’s go back to the hotdog booth.”   Peepers let’s Hater pull him along, smirking as he files away the useful information for later use. 

—————

After eating and Hater dragging Peepers on every single ride, the sun now hovers in the horizon completely.

For the past thirty minutes Hater has sat at the dart booth, coming close several times but not getting enough to win any prizes. If Peepers had hair he would be pulling it out as he sits on top of the booth. He watches his feet idly rocking back and forth, resting his face in the palm of his hand as he sighs. 

“AGRH!” Once again Hater lost, this time missing two of the targets. He slams down more tickets. “Give me more.” The words are pulled out from his clenched teeth. Peepers has given up trying to persuade him away from the game. 

Peepers tried to play, but Hater had his heart set on getting this stuffed animal. He clearly wants to win before Peepers. 

The man behind the counter looks more bored than Peepers is feeling, leaning up against the counter. Then again Peepers thinks he looked this way before Hater started playing, but he can’t really remember. 

From sitting in the same place Peepers is starting to freeze. The wind has gotten harsher, and holds a much more biting tone. He needs to move his blood. 

Hater misses all of the targets this time, and Peepers can’t take it anymore. “THAT’S IT!!” He jumps up, limbs stiffening as he pulls out his ray gun. It hums to life as he points it at the kid behind the counter. He shows the most emotion Peepers has seen him reveal all night. His droopy lids shoot up, and his hands shoot up. “Whoa!” 

“Give us a stuffed animal! Or give us all of them I don’t really care!” Peepers holds the gun steady, veins bulging in his eyes.  
 A smile starts in the middle of Hater’s lips, crinkling at the corners. His hands light up green as he roars out, “Yes give us that one!” He points to the small brown bear with horns and wings in the corner. The man nods, heading over with speed Peepers didn't know he had, and tosses the bear on the table. “H-here is that all?” 

Hater looks over to Peepers. “Did you want something?”

He shakes his head, and Hater grabs the stuffed animal. Peepers draws his gun down and they slowly walk away. 

Once they’re several booths down, Hater looks down at the bear, grumbling, “I don't even really want it that much anymore.” 

Peepers deadpans as Hater throws it into a nearby garbage bin. Typical. 

————

Peepers face palms for the thousandth time that day when Hater demands that he wants every single flavor on his shaven ice. The woman had the nerve to tell him that that wasn't aloud, and was met with his glowing fist in her face. She quickly reconsidered. 

Hater walks down the road, large shaven ice in his hands. He licks down the side of the bowl as some of the liquidated colorful sugar leaks out from the sides of it. Peepers passed on getting one, he is already cold enough. He supposes Hater doesn't really get cold since he is just a pile of bones, and Peepers envies him for that. With every passing second he’s getting colder and colder, and he is starting to shiver. 

A few booths down Hater spots bright orange. His heart drops, and he does a double take. Sure enough it’s Wander. And if that isn't bad enough he's with Major Threat! 

His neon green eyes widen before he screeches out, “WANDER?! NO!!” 

Peepers is roughly brought out of his icy thoughts, and Hater’s screech vibrates through his brain. He leaps into the air, heart running. 

Then the words process, and when he sees the wandering weirdo ahead his face deadpans and he groans. Oh great Wander’s here. Of course. He can already feel a headache nudging at his temples from just seeing him. 

A few people walking by stare at Hater in interest, before continuing on. Wander waves enthusiastically, his hand blurring bright orange from the force of it.

“Hey Hater. Hiya Mr. Peepers!” They stop in front of each other, one pair looking a lot more ecstatic than the other. 

Peepers eyes Jeff, lids narrowing in suspicion. Where there’s a Wander there’s usually a Sylvia. He looks around Jeff and Wander, before giving into asking, “Where’s the zbornak?” 

Although it is a known fact Jeff and Wander are an item, it didn't stop Sylvia from tagging along with them occasionally. 

“Oh! She’s around here somewhere,” Wander looks around but doesn't see his best friend anywhere, “With her new friend Dee.” Wander stage mumbles, “She’s kinda moody if you ask me,” His voice returns to normal volume, squeaking, “But! A friend of Sylvia’s is a friend of mine!” 

Hater growls out, “Ugh! Just like you to say something gross and wandery like that.”

Wander ignores him comment. “What brings you two here?” 

Hater opens his mouth to make a snarky comment, but his jaw glues shut at the unexpected question. 

Hater and Peepers haven't really told anyone that they are dating yet. They haven't discussed how they want to handle it yet. Peepers just assumed they would let people find out for themselves. But at the same time now that they've been dating for awhile, he wouldn’t mind the world knowing that Hater is taken. 

Not that anyone is fighting to be Hater’s partner. 

Hater looks at his commander for guidance, who is in turn glancing at the dusty road and digging his foot into it. Hater’s cheeks start to turn green as Peepers stays stubbornly quiet.

Wander waggles his eyebrows. “Ooohhh are you two here on a date too?!”

Both of them don’t know how Wander always seems to know everything. Peepers thinks Wander’s known since their first date since he’s been more excited around them ever since then and eyeing them much more.   They stay silent, and a high pitch noise starts low in Wander’s chest, boiling out of his mouth. 

“We shoulda all gone on a double date!”

Both Hater and Peepers feel the urge to gag. A double date with the do gooders. 

Hater’s face flames shamrock, imagining them all going out at a fancy restaurant or to the movies. How humiliating. 

“AGH NO GROSS!!” Hater tosses his hands out in front of him, gagging. Beside him Peepers lids scrunch up. “IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS ANYWAYS! C’mon C Peeps!” Hater grumbles the last part, engulfing Peepers small hand in his and pulling him away. 

“Bye Hatey! It was so nice to run into you buddy!” Wander calls out behind them, but neither of them turn around. 

Hater walks even faster, and Peepers struggles to keep up. He is tripping over his own feet, being dragged by Hater. “Sir slow down, please.” Peepers mutters, but it goes unheard over Hater’s scream.

“WE ARE NOT BUDDIES!” Peepers ears ring since he is right beside Hater when it is screeched. 

Once they are far far away and Hater no longer feels like Wander could be following them he slows down. He keeps his hand in Peepers, and neither of them make a move to pull away. 

The sun is now completely below the horizon, and the sky has faded to a deep cobalt blended into black. The almost full moon looms out and several stars begin to sprawl out. 

While the breeze is a mere tickle to Hater, it is a punch to Peepers. He wishes he had thought to grab at least a jacket before running out. Shivers corse through his body, and because of their connected hands Hater notices. 

Hater wordlessly removes their hands, and Peepers almost cries out at the last bit of warmth that is ripped from him. All he has left is his helmet, which is having trouble receiving warmth from his frigid blood. 

Lord Hater brings his arm around Peepers, pulling him close. His cheekbones are stained green as he continues to stay abnormally quiet. 

Peepers kisses his hand, and then pulls the arm tighter around himself for warmth. “Thank you sir.” 

Comfortable silence slinks in the atmosphere as the festival soon fades in the distance, and the skull ship slinks a tad bit closer. 

“I actually had a lot of fun today.” Peepers voice drags out of his throat, and fatigue is starting to ware his lids down. 

Hater scoffs, “Really?”   Peepers nods, “Of course, I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it sir.”   There’s more silence, but this time Peepers can feel the shift. It’s hotter and thicker, evading off Hater’s bones. 

“But why? I mean you hated the pony, and well I forced you on all the rides. Then I couldn't win a stuffed animal, and you didn't get shaven ice. And then Wander was there! And he always ruins everything!” 

Peepers squeezes Hater’s hand, playing with his bony fingers through his yellow gloves. “Sir the pony wasn't my favorite part… but seeing you love it made it bearable. Besides smashing the pumpkins was fun, and I love rides since I love being up high. And did you see Mr. No-expression’s face at the dart booth when we robbed him, it was hilarious! You didn't chase after Wander, and I don't like shaven ice.” 

Hater nods and they fall into silence again. Peepers can still feel that somethings agitating Hater, and snuggles into his chest for additional warmth as he waits for Hater to voice it. 

“Did you uh,” Hater nervously stutters, and Peepers tiredly waits. His eye is shut, and Peepers is thankful Hater is walking slowly so that Peepers can keep up with him.    
Both of them also want to enjoy the night walk together, but none of them were about to voice that. 

“The kiss was good?” Doubt leaks out of his words, and the chest behind him slinks down. His ribs expand, holding in oxygen and anticipation.   Peepers rolls his eyes, but a small smiles slips across his features. “Yes,” Peepers adds his afterthought, feeling brave at Hater’s unsureness. “Although I wouldn't be against it being longer.”   “Yeah of course it was good because it came from me and I’m the greatest! I knew that!” His chest straightens, and burnt anxiety rushes out above Peeper’s head. 

Peepers doesn’t know who he is attempting to convince more. 

“Of course sir, you're the greatest.” Peepers grins tiredly. 

He doesn't know how late it is, but judging by the moon’s height and his growingly frequent yawns it is a little past the time he’s normally in bed. 

Peepers reflects on the festival, and suddenly starts giggling in exhaustion.   “What?” Hater prods at Peepers shoulder, his defensiveness awakening Peepers a bit more. 

“It’s just,” His airy giggles echo throughout the tall blades of grass. “could you imagine us going on a double date with Wander and Major Threat? Those two space hippies.” Peepers is laughing harder now, and a small amused smile splits his jaw open. “Heh, yeah it would be super lame.” 

Peepers continues to cackle, head shaking against Hater’s chest. “Where would we go? And how the conversations would go!” His head lolls against Hater as moisture begins to trickle out of his squinted lids. His pupils shine, and Hater looks down at him in concern. He rarely sees Peepers like this. 

His small chest is shaking, and he is gaging for air between his loopy laughter. Hater has no idea what he’s thinking, but the giggling is so contagious that he starts to laugh too, just not at all as hard as Peepers. 

Peepers has to stop to catch his breath, leaning up against Hater’s legs. He clings to them, fists swallowing the black fabric as his lids hang open. He pants, wiping at his eye as the last of amusement leaks out of him, fading to exhaustion. 

He looks ahead, and his legs wince. The skull ship is still a ways away. 

Groaning out, Peepers slinks down Hater’s leg, slouching slightly. 

He’s so tired. Lately he hasn't been able to fall asleep as quickly, nights spent tossing and turning as Dominator eats away at his brain. He’s never had such a hard time developing plans. 

Now it’s all tumbling in, making his veins stutter and head ache. Lids drooping he shuffles forwards, the wind propels him deeper into Hater’s chest. 

With each step Hater is running into Peepers, and he is starting to get fed up with it. Peepers, not realizing how slow he is going, keeps his eye closed as he stumbles on.

“GROP PEEPERS!” Hater’s yell snaps him awake, his lids momentarily opening stiffly.

“Sorry sir.” Peepers slurs out, forcing his legs to take larger strides. Through his smudged vision his heart punches against his chest rapidly. His limbs feel like they are in quick sand as he plows on against the wind. He forces his eye to stay open.

The ground drops as hands bite into his sides. Gasping the loss of warmth is made up by him being surrounded by even more. Hands flailing he grips onto Hater’s shoulder as Hater’s arm readjusts itself, holding more firmly across his butt. The other is on his back, pulling him closer under his neck. Hater huffs, the warm air skating along the top of Peepers eye. Lying his head on Hater’s collarbone, he smiles. 

“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” Hater glares down at him, but his voice and gaze lack venom. 

Peepers nuzzles himself further into Hater’s neck, his light laughter flooding down Hater’s hood. A shiver shoots up his spine, and Hater gulps, jolting. 

“Of course Sir.” Peepers means to say it, but Hater can’t make out a single word he muttered into his cloth. 

“What?” Hater asks looking straight ahead. Peepers jostles in his arms as he walks, but it’s relaxing to him. He fully rests into Hater’s arms, and he notices that Peepers has gotten heavier.

After several seconds of no response, he looks down at Peepers whose eye is shut. His steady exhales brush along Hater’s neck, and his hands lie slack in between his and Hater’s chests. 

Hater sighs, trying to be annoyed at all of this. But as he periodically glances down at his commander he can’t find it in is heart to be.

He’ll pretend to be, though.

He tells himself he will wake him up when they get closer. 

When they do reach the ship Hater doesn't wake him up, fathoming the excuse that he doesn't want to put forth the effort to wake him and put him down. 

And when he walks past Peepers bedroom with Peepers still in his arms he gives the same reason. It isn't his responsibility and doing so would take forever anyways. 

Besides, he is starting to get used to liking the feeling of Peepers in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback fuels me :) 
> 
> Please let me know if there are any errors so I can fix them.
> 
> Tumblr: hatesgreat-bestvillian


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